


caesura.

by senandungbintang



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Major Character Injury, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16187282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senandungbintang/pseuds/senandungbintang
Summary: He's trapped in his own head. In this room with the ugly chipped blue coating that hasn't been repainted for over fifteen years. These walls that have concealed way too many tears, too many silent pleas, too many secrets. This house. This fucking city. Seungmin wants to leave.





	caesura.

**Author's Note:**

> listen to [Till The End of Time by The Black Skirts](https://open.spotify.com/track/03YtYSkpHqqY3EBmHJkTjP?si=W3n1M9vFQf-fzKgZFQGrIw) for maximum effect ;^)
> 
> This work is also available in [Vietnamese](https://leodranix.wordpress.com/2018/10/09/transoneshot-caesura/#more-805).

The lights had long gone off after the shouting. It’s quiet now. The voices don't burn his ears anymore, but he can still hear them. Loud and clear in his head.

It’s suffocating. _Everything_ is suffocating. His lungs expand with oxygen; his heart pumps out blood several miles per hour, but he's not breathing.

He's trapped in his own head. In this room with the ugly chipped blue coating that hasn't been repainted for over fifteen years. These walls that have concealed way too many tears, too many silent pleas, too many secrets. This house. This fucking city. Seungmin wants to leave.

He types on his phone, not caring how late it is. He wants to be selfish.

“ _I’ll be there in 3_ ,” came the reply.

He clicks it off and wills himself to open the door.

It’s dark. He’s not surprised. A sitcom laugh bursts from the living room. A low rumbling chuckle follows. He despises that sound. He makes a beeline for the shoe rack.

“Where are you going?” the voice asks from the other side of the sofa. It didn't bother to even turn around and face him.

One shoe in.

“Yah, I asked you a question.” A worn magazine flies in his direction. It misses, knocking the photo frames off the dresser. They tumble and crash against the ceramic tiles, instantly shattered. He glances at the pictures briefly. Fake. It’s all fake. The smiles, the “loving” hand on his shoulder meant to disguise the shameful downfall of this family. Even the suits, dresses and jewelry were rented. Pathetic. He doesn't know why they still kept the picture.

“Clean that shit up.”

He doesn’t.

He quickly puts his foot in the other shoe and pushes the front door open. The voice doesn't stop him. Probably thought he’s leaving for good.

‘Maybe I will,’ he thinks to himself.

He _slams_ the door shut, and doesn't look back.

-

A black sedan arrives within three minutes, just as promised. Seungmin opens the door to be met with the driver’s concerned eyes.

“Where to?”

Seungmin sighs. “Anywhere but here.”

And they drive off.

-

They come to a red light stop. There are no other cars in sight, but Seungmin doesn't complain.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Seungmin doesn't say anything. Hyunjin understands. He doesn't ask questions or pries. He smiles at Seungmin instead, taking his hand and weaving their fingers together.

The light turns green, but Hyunjin doesn't let go.

Seungmin gazes at the buildings and skyscrapers as they whiz by. He used to like this, the aesthetic of basking in the city lights and catching glimpses of the hedonistic nightlife. He still appreciates the beauty Seoul has to offer even during the witching hours.

But he has no place here. Not anymore.

Eventually, the neon ensemble blurs out, and soon enough they are greeted by a sign that indicates they are about to exit the city.

Hyunjin nudges his arm in question. He nods in approval. Hyunjin hits the pedal and they continue without a destination. Seungmin reminds himself to pay Hyunjin back for gas sometime.

-

They end up at a beach. He doesn't bother to learn the location. Hyunjin rolls down the windows then kills the engine.

It’s freezing. The waves lap against jagged rocks and the wind whip against their faces harshly. Seungmin feels mist hitting his clothes. He doesn't care that they’ll get damp.

Hyunjin nudges him again, this time offering a box of cigarettes. There was one already lighted, dangling from the tip of his mouth. Seungmin shakes his head, politely pushing it off. He’s not that stupid, he thinks. He wants to be able to donate his organs when he dies. At least they could be of use to someone, even though he himself isn't.

His teeth chatter and he starts to shiver. Hyunjin digs into the glove box and offers him a small blanket. He gratefully accepts it.

“Still cold?” Hyunjin asks softly.

“Hmm. A bit.”

He reaches into Seungmin’s seat to adjust it. They both lean back and Hyunjin pulls him into his arms. He tosses the remaining cig out the window then places his other hand on Seungmin's back.

Hyunjin smells nice. He always does. And he’s warm. Warmer than he could ever feel at home. Seungmin wraps his lanky limbs around Hyunjin’s waist and snuggles closer. Hyunjin slips his fingers under his shirt, tracing the juts of his spine beneath his cold bare skin. It’s decorated with bruises, welts, and whatnot. Hyunjin can’t see them now, but he knows they’re there. His heart aches.

“Min-ah,” he murmurs into Seungmin's ear.

“Seungmin-ah. Listen to me. It will get better, okay?”

Quiet.

“There’s a whole lifetime waiting for us. I can't do this without you Min-ah.” Seungmin can hear Hyunjin’s voice slightly waver, close to tears. He doesn't dare look.

“Don't leave me,” Hyunjin whispers.

He doesn't cry.

Numb. He feels numb.

Hyunjin lifts his chin to cup his face. He peers into Seungmin's eyes, taking in what years of abuse had done to the very person he’d put on a glorified pedestal. He's still young, yet his face no longer bears any sign of youth. _Lifeless. Soulless. Dull. Gray._ There's nothing lovely about it in the slightest. Seungmin is broken. 

They don't kiss either. There’s nothing to celebrate this time.

Seungmin puts his head back on Hyunjin’s chest. He listens to the vicious roar of the ocean harmonize with the monotonous beat of Hyunjin’s heart and lets himself collapse into the embrace of emotional fatigue.

-

When he opens his eyes again, Hyunjin had rolled up the windows and re-started the engine. Hyunjin points to his watch. The sky is still dark, but the slowly increasing flow of cars behind them shows a telltale sign that daytime is right around the corner.

“I have a 9 AM lecture,” Hyunjin explains. Seungmin nods and adjusts his seat back up.

Hyunjin fastens their seatbelts, and they drive off.

The ride back isn't as tense. He lets himself hum to whatever is on the radio, fingers drumming on Hyunjin’s lap. He watches the sun peek from behind the horizon, rays grazing their cheeks in morning greeting. Hyunjin smiles. Seungmin used to be a good singer. Still is, he supposes.

_He’ll make Seungmin sing again someday, he promises._

**Author's Note:**

> just me highkey self-projecting oof. did you listen to the song while reading? i felt the lyrics could be hyunjin's pov of the story. anygays, if this made you sad, lmk in the comments or leave kudos ♡


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